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"Ward Marston brings lost recordings to full glory" by David Patrick Stearns, |
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The ghosts of long-dead musicians are no doubt blessing Ward Marston from beyond the grave. The Swarthmore, PA.-based record producer has become their most passionate advocate, transferring their dim old recordings to CD reissues with a sound more vivid and lifelike than they've ever had. Among living artists, too, Marston is a cult figure: His name on a CD cover prompts collectors to buy-even if they've already bought the same performance in another transfer. And so in forming his own label, he named it after himself. It sells. Launched this fall, the Marston label now has five titles, four of them double-disc sets. All are transfers of 78 r.p.m. recordings that would fetch up to $5,000 in their original form. Much of the material hails from the dawn of recorded sound: great but forgotten Johanna Gadski, the German dramatic soprano; Alma Gluck, the beloved Romanian/American singer; Italian coloratura Olimpia Boronat; and the marvelous but microphone-shy pianist Josef Hofmann. There's also a 1923 recording of Massenet's Manon-the closest to what the composer, who died in 1912, heard. What fascinates Marston most are lost traditions. Turn-of-the-century artists had bigger, more extravagant personalities. And the French had highly idiosyncratic traditions, now dead. That's why Marston relishes his discovery of Jean Nougues opera Les Freres Danilo, recorded in 1913. "Nobody has found a score or libretto. There's no record that the thing was ever published. It's a total mystery opera," Marston says. "I have the only known copy of the complete work. And I intend to put it out. The singing is fantastic!" The 45-year-old Marston, blind since birth, maintains a second career as a jazz pianist and pursues hobbies such as sky diving and tending his 25,000-disc collection. His blindness "can be extremely inconvenient," he acknowledges. "I was looking for something to play for a lecture, and I had to play 40 records to find the one I wanted. But I can usually find things pretty well. I often ask people what artists look like. I collect photographs of them on my walls. Even if I can't see them, it's nice for others." Marston doesn't believe the oft-repeated theory that blindness prompts sharper hearing. But he thinks his concentration benefits from a lack of visual distractions. No doubt that contributes to wizardry he achieves with recordings from the oft-forgotten acoustical era-1901 to 1925, before microphones were invented. He believes that lots of sound can be coaxed from these primitive discs by taking care that they're played at the right speed (it shockingly variable back then) and approaching them not as recordings but as music. "I try to imagine what the voice sounds like, and then I twiddle the knobs until I get as close as I can to that,," he says. "I'm never certain I've got the answer. But all of a sudden, you sense when the voice comes into perspective. It's like when you get the speed right. You get a halo around the voice. Something just happens, and it is where it belongs." "Producer's label debut unearths some little-known gems" Music Reviews - by David Patrick Stearns, He has produced peerless reissues of old records by such superstars as tenor Enrico Caruso and violinist Fritz Kreisler for other labels. Now Ward Marston moves on to lesser-known performers-though not necessarily lesser talents-for his own label. Most accessible is The Complete Josef Hofmann Vol.5 (*** out of four; the other volumes were released on VAI label). Made from 1935 to 1948, these recordings document the twilight of this towering piano talent, who played Chopin with incomparable lightness, grace and insight. Much of what's here are bits and pieces, test pressings and appearances on radio programs. Though there's evidence of his mastery everywhere, not all of it is great; when it is, performances have an emotional truth that brands itself onto your soul. Massenet's Manon (***) is heard in a 1923 recording from Paris' now defunct Opera-Comique, whose distinctive tradition is in evidence here. Tenor Jean Marny is no full-voiced Placido Domingo but someone with an endearing subtlety and gentility. Fanny Heldy has that distinctively light, French canary sound, and though she can't always handle the more dramatic passages, she's far better than most current Manons. Humor and buoyancy help the performance transcend the noisy recorded sound. And an appendix featuring Manon excerpts by the astonishing Lucette Korsoff, recorded in 1908, is alone worth the price. Three volumes devoted to solo singers can by trying to modern ears. The Complete Olimpia Boronat (***) is no problem: In fact, she's a delightful surprise, her distinctive, full-bodied tone and effortless coloratura jumping off the 1904 recordings made in St. Petersburg. But on both The Complete Johanna Gadski Vol.I and Alma Gluck (both **1/2), you hear curious voices that use vibrato only sparingly. It sounds a bit like opera from a parallel universe, but performances are full of subtle, insightful word shadings the likes of which aren't common today.
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